


Chimera

by Chimera_Emrys



Category: Chimera - Fandom, OC - Fandom
Genre: Multi, OC, Original Content - Freeform, chimera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimera_Emrys/pseuds/Chimera_Emrys
Summary: A vigilante called Chimera hits the streets almost every night to protect New Orleans from the crime that suffocates it. With her 26 teams, (around 156 operators), she does what she can to accomplish that goal. With law enforcement after her alongside the bad guys, she's got a rough road ahead of her. She's got to lean on her friends and values to keep New Orleans and the rest of the world safe.





	1. Let's Get Started!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of this story. I have no idea where it's going but I hope you enjoy! Comments are always welcome!

The common room was usually dark at that hour. It was 7 AM, quite a few houses were dark. It makes sense that they would be.

But a single lamp shone, sitting on the side table beside the biggest couch in the middle of the room. Next to the lamp sat Emrys. A tall woman with a high, short, wavy white ponytail emerging from a black mask surrounding her head. A padded, tech-filled black suit with white and red detailing to accompany the mask encompassed her body. She gripped the material at the top of her head, pulling the mask off with a slight groan, noting that she pulled her stitches on her shoulder blade, her proof being the pain and the smell of blood she’d caught wind of. She allowed her arm to drop onto her knee. The woman was slightly tanned, wavy black hair with electric blue tips to frame her face that surrounded her one blue and one brown eye.

Staying silent, she stared at the wrinkly, shapeless mask in the light the lamp provided. The white ponytail, like a waterfall, flowed downward towards the floor.

She cried. 

The fuck are we even doing? I’m so sorry, Arlo.

A few hours passed before she’d fallen asleep, her face covered in tears, eyes puffy while her core shook slightly. The hours felt like days. Days that were longer than they’d had any right to be.

<>6 months later<>

Emrys slept, body sprawled out on the couch in the common room, stomach down, arms and legs hanging off in different places. She slept peacefully, her back rising and falling rhythmically.  
She would have gotten much better sleep if a blender didn’t just sound like a damn helicopter starting up.

A sing-song voice came from the back of the room, “Good morning! Good morning!” No, it wasn’t. Especially if it was going to start with such a high pitch with so much vibrato.

Emrys’s muffled voice came through the pillow her face was buried in, “This is my own private domicile and I will not be harassed…bitch!”

“Oh good a Breaking Bad quote! You’re up,” A woman stood in the mini kitchen in the back of the common room, making too much noise with the blender, spinning together her concoction of a smoothie. If she could even call it that. “We’ve got some work to do, today, Emrys.”

I’m gonna drive over that damn thing, I swear.

The busy woman in the kitchen was Cameron, better known as Cam. She was Emrys’s best friend and “colleague”. She had brown eyes like sunlight through a glass of iced tea.

Emrys sucked in a short breath. “Not today, Cam. I’m gonna go to my room and sleep, okay? If you need help with anything, ask T.E.S.S. or the rest of Alpha. Maybe Bravo. But dear God, not Charlie, they’re still hungover from their post-successful-op-party.”

Eyebrows raised; Cam stepped out from behind the island, bringing a hand up. “I get that you’re tired, but we’ve got someone out there who needs to be put away. I’ll make you some food and we’ll head to the War Room and figure this thing out.” As Emrys stood from where she laid, Cam’s eyes followed her friend’s path around the couch on the way to the hallway towards the bedrooms. “Aw, tell me you didn’t sleep in your suit.”

“First of all: I slept in the suit. I’ll give it to Stefon to take care of. Second of all: I’m not going to the War Room. I’m going to my room and I’m gonna go to sleep, again. Third of all: That blender leaves this base by tomorrow or I’m running over it with one of the cars. Have a good day, yeah?” Yeah, yeah, a little harsh but she was tired and nobody was getting between Emrys and her king-sized bed in her pitch-black room.

<><><>

The next day, Emrys and Cam sat at opposite ends of a long table with six others, two dogs in their own chairs, of course, all with paperwork scattered around, mugs leaving coffee-stained rings in the papers despite Cam’s very frequently expressed wishes for that not to happen. The room was covered in maps, posters, shelves, and technology ranging from wall-mounted tablets to TV screens hanging from the ceiling. A table behind Cam had a screen instead of glass or wood on top. Cam, through the “TV Table”, as the operatives called it, displayed the photo of a Betty White-looking old woman on a screen on the wall.

When the doors closed and locked, chatter and laughter died instantly, everyone giving Cam their undivided attention. She stood, taking a couple of steps to stand in front of the TV screens. She pointed at the old woman’s photo. “This is our HVT. Mary Hillary Faraday.”

“This Madge is our High-Value Target? She looks like the most interesting thing about her is that her grandson scored a winning goal in a hockey game twenty years ago and now he’s a dentist or some shit.”

“Minno, can you please, like, for once… just let her finish what she’s saying about the HVT before you roast them?” Emrys’s exhaustion with Minno’s attempt at humor surely had nothing to do with her irritability towards Cam.

Minno looked like the stereotypical kid’s TV channel high school jock. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Built like a tank. He had a jawline that could cut a man. He had no facial hair whatsoever, but they all knew if he’d gone a day without shaving, he’d look like he’d lived in the woods for forty years with no contact with civilization. He was the sweetest person you’d ever meet. Unless you did something to hurt someone.

“Sorry. Continue?”

“Right. She killed her whole family. Kids, grandkids, husband. Even her dog,” Cam swiped on the screen-table, making the TV screen show multiple photos of dead bodies. “She got into this business without any emotional ties. There’s no leverage we have, emotionally. It’d all have to be business and she’s willing to lose to gain.”

“Shit,” Rhys scrunched his nose. “She killed those people. Her family. And the dog?!” Rhys was the type of dude to give a homeless-looking man money even if he’d seen the same guy get out of a sports car a moment before just because he didn’t want to risk him having nothing but the car to his name. He cared about everyone and everything… Sometimes too much. He gazed at the horrifying photos, the red reflecting off of his bright hazel irises. “There’s so much blood…”

“What’s her trade?” Emrys leaned forward, looking through the information Cam had only compiled the night before. “Target package says drugs. What kind? Why’re there no specifics?”

“All of ‘em. She’s buying, selling and importing all drugs. Prescription, addictive, nonaddictive. Any and all drugs. On the market, off the market, commercial, independent. You name it, she’s slinging it,” Cam pointed towards the scrolling list of drugs.

“So we’re trying to get evidence of the drugs and bring it to the authorities?” Minno shuffled a few papers before looking back up to the rest of the team. “The usual? Grab evidence and the HVT and get ‘em to the cops?”

“As of right now, we’re looking to get some people she’s got in one of her facilities. While we’re not a fan of the drugs, she’s got hostages. That, as we all know, takes priority over the drugs. Now, if we can get her and the contraband, that’d be ideal, but if we can’t, we have to save the hostages.” Cam started towards the door before turning back to the team. “You spin up in two hours. We meet back here in five to discuss how things are going down. Just a preview, Rhys, you aerophobic asshole, it’s looking like a HALO jump.”

<><><>

“That was insane!” Minno stood from his seat at the breakfast table, “I can’t believe we not only got all those people out but, yo… those drugs?! This was the most productive op we’ve ever had out of the entire history of all 26 teams! Some rookie cop is probably on the news, right now. Aw man, I can hear their nasally voice.” He put on a comically deep voice with a horrible nasally southern accent. “’You see, here, I got all uh these drugs and people out uh this building. I saved everyone! Blah blah blah.’”

“You’re probably right, Minno,” Cam stood from the couch in the middle of the room. “That cop will absolutely benefit from the team’s bust, tonight. And what do we say about that glory?”

“We don’t need glory.” The team said as one.

Everyone split off to their respective rooms, ready to fall into bed and never wake up again.  
All except for- 

“Chimera? Can we talk for a minute?” Cam stepped into the common room kitchen, before stopping the vigilante with a grip on her arm.

“Wait, can I please take off the mask and be Emrys before you ask me to talk about my feelings?” She pulled her mask off, revealing her true identity before bringing her arm up to cross with the other. “Look, honestly, why don’t we just do this tomorrow? I’m exhausted and-”

“They’re here. Your family.”

“On-base or in town?”

“In town. No way we’d let them get on base.”

Emrys grasped at her mask tighter and tighter until the muscles in her hands and arms cramped. “What do you have?”

“They got in yesterday afternoon at MSY. They got a room at a higher-end kinda hotel. They’ve been rolling around town all day with a cop. Detective Fontenot. I’ve done my research. He’s good, Em. This could be a problem.”

“I-I know. I’ve met him… I guess I’ll have to lay low, let them tire themselves out and go back home.”

Cam motioned for Emrys to sit, bringing up a stool of her own. The two sat in silence for a moment before anyone had the courage to speak.

“We may have to face this in a way nobody wants to.”

Emrys stood, pacing. They need to give it up. They have no idea what they’re risking.

“I get it. We’ll deal with it, tomorrow. You can go out and run interference. Maybe have Echo shadow,” Cam put the stools away, a squeak erupting from the legs as they scraped across the industrial-looking gray concrete floor.

<><><>

“I’m just letting you know; a cop came in here with your family looking for you.” A deep voice came over the phone to Chimera. “I don’t know if you wanna head out here, but this is turning into a whole thing. They’re going to every store on this street. They went to the comic book store, they came here, and I think they’re headed to DeSoto’s.”

“Dammit. Dammit! They couldn’t just leave it, could they? They couldn’t just accept that I had gone missing! They had to come after me and risk everything!” Emrys slammed her fist on the hood of a BMW before throwing a restrained criminal onto the front steps on the New Orleans Police Department with a USB tied to the man’s neck with the word “pedophile” written in big, bold letters on his forehead.

“Are you out in the field?”

“Yeah. I’m not far from DeSoto’s. I can take a look. Thanks, Hank. Let me know when you get that Sig in and I’ll come by and pick it up for Cam.”

“You bet. Maybe I could give you a discount on a Romeo sight for it. Have a good one. Stay safe.”

<><><>

“DeSoto! Hey, man!” Detective Fontenot strolled through the restaurant, eyeing down the owner. The detective stood, broad shoulders, accompanied by dark skin and granny smith apple green eyes. He was young but experienced and you knew it just by looking at him.

“Detective Malcolm Fontenot! Didn’t think I’d see you around here! You comin’ in here for my hot and fresh boudin? I made it less than an hour ago! I can getcha some of my Flamin’ Bayou Sauce!” DeSoto called out from the kitchen. He made his way through the kitchen door out into the dining room to welcome his guests. Jazz blared from the speakers, muffling DeSoto’s concerned mumbles under his breath.

The volume in the restaurant was constantly getting louder and louder with every patron that walked through the front door. DeSoto’s never knew what rush hour was, given the fact that it was always busy. If people weren’t sitting, stuffing their faces with authentic, flavorful Cajun food, they were standing at the picture frames of DeSoto’s family, generations and generations back, all having lived in New Orleans. The music changed every day to keep the same songs from playing, turning the staff insane. While it hadn’t been a restaurant rule, and servers and busboys ran around attempting to clean off tables, people did it on their own! One thing Neil DeSoto would pride himself on was the fact that he created a home kind of environment for people to go to. Mamma’s cookin’. His great, great, great gramma’s recipes to fill the bellies of the city: the home he loved so much.

“Sorry, DeSoto; I’m actually here with a family looking for someone and traffic cams say she comes in here almost daily.” The detective sat at the only empty table in front of the bar along with the family: a daughter, mother, and father. “I’m looking for her.” He slid a photo of a smiling Emrys at a concert onto the table as DeSoto sat down. He was a large man, donning a greasy, dirty white apron with an LSU jersey underneath and tan cargo shorts to go with it. The restaurant-grade non-slip shoes were a beautiful addition to the ensemble, Emrys always said.

“Yeah, I recognize her. She’s a regular. She mostly gets boudin and crawfish etouffee. Other than that, she sits on her phone and talks to nobody but the servers who help her. I’ve spoken to her once or twice, but she seems a little anxious, so I try to leave her alone.”

“Do you mind if we keep a few plainclothes around the restaurant to see if we can get her to her family? We’d also like to talk to those servers.”

“Has she done something wrong? Why a few? Please tell me I don’t have someone breaking the law in my restaurant.” The man served around 156 vigilantes every week. As if he cared about people breaking the law in his restaurant. Do you want protection? Forget the mob. Get Emrys’s 26 teams with 6 members per team in the joint. That’s how you stay protected. And it’s free. No broken kneecaps around here!

“No, of course not. But she’s been good at staying hidden, so we’re worried that she’s running from something or someone. We want to make sure she’s safe when we find her.”

“O-okay. I guess, yeah. I gotta get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else?” DeSoto slipped back to the kitchen, quickly making for the wall-mounted phone.

…….  
“Go for Chimera.”

“Chi, you’re gonna have to stay away from the restaurant for a while. Cops’ve invaded.”

“DeSoto,” She laughed, “I know. Detective Malcolm Fontenot of New Orleans Police Department. He’s been a detective for a decade after being an officer for six years. He rose through the ranks quickly due to raw talent as stated by his TO and Captain. He’s lived at the same address for the past seven years, he got divorced in his third year as an officer, remarried two years later and got divorced again after only six months of marriage. His sister lives in California. I could go on.”

“So you know things, kid. I gotcha,” His eyeroll was almost audible, “I’m just warning you.”

“Sorry. I’m just stressed, right now. I’ve got that Faraday case in the back of my mind and I just need some rest. Maybe some boudin but you’ve got that cop there.”

“With your family.”

“Yeah. With my family. Gotta go, man. I’m in the field.”

DeSoto sighed, “Be careful, kid.”

“Promise.”  
…….


	2. Getting Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chimera and her team are about to take on a case they have no idea the magnitude of. Detective Fontenot needs to get on board or let them work because it's beyond anything he's seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as you're now at chapter 2, I have to believe you liked my first chapter. Thank you! Any comments are appreciated as I'd love to see where you think the story is going! I have more ideas so stay tuned!

<>6 months later<>

“Traffic cams say Chimera’s here with multiple others. Most-likely one of her teams,” Detective Fontenot kept his gun out, pointer finger along the side of the gun’s slide. He swiftly moved to clear the rooftop.

Stepping out from behind an AC unit, she smiled. “You rang?”

The detective jumped, pointing his firearm towards her, quickly bringing his finger to the trigger. Cortisol flooded his body, making his hands shake, “Maybe.”

“I’m busy, detective. Maybe we’ll do this another night when I’m not stopping bad guys.” She keeled down at the edge of the roof, noting any movement. It sucked, but since the police started up their anti-Chimera task force three months ago, she had been overwatch. Hell, they brought some FBI agents into the mix because “Committing said crimes and crossing state borders and committing those crimes again brings it under federal jurisdiction blah blah blah. Vigilantes more often than not fall under FBI jurisdiction yada, yada, yada.” All of that information courtesy of T.E.S.S. She always did go on for way longer than anyone asked. Something to look at in her coding.

The detective’s laugh echoed across the rooftop, “I could say the same.”

Eyes glowing golden yellow, she took a deep breath. She brought her hand to her sternum, “Hear you, Lima Charlie.” She looked back to Fontenot, eyes no longer glowing. Not that he’d know. She’s got the white covers over her eyes. Thank God Stefon insisted on it. “I’m not the bad guy, here, dude.”

“You’re breaking the law, dude. Vigilantism is a crime. You’re a criminal.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Do you ever speed?” She put her finger up, “Before you decide to be a smartass, I mean other than when you’re on duty or your sirens are on.”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“Does your son? Your sister?”

“Wait- how did you?”

“They all speed, Malcolm,” She kicked a rock, throwing a hand over her shoulder. “Speeding is against the law. A crime. You and your family commit, at the least, one crime per day. By definition, you’re all criminals.” Pointing at the detective, she tilted her head with a smirk. “Welcome to the club.”

Visibly jarred, Fontenot brought back his focus. “Doesn’t matter. What you do is far worse than speeding or jaywalking or any of that. You kill people!”

Her head snapped in his direction, making him nearly jump out of his skin. “Do what?” She brought her hand to her sternum, once again, “Copy, Alpha 2. Havoc, this is Alpha 1, passing Halpert.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Myself- you think I kill people? Who told you that? What evidence do you have? Show me the carfax, detective.”

“Arlo Blocke?” He watched as she stood, silently staring at him. Her fists were balled, arm straining with the pressure. If it weren’t for her suit, her nails would have cut straight through her skin.

Her hand pressed against her chest. “Go for Alpha 1.” The two stood, staring at each other in continued silence as she listened to TOC. “Good copy. Listen, detective, I gotta go. See you around.”

Before he could react, Fontenot watched as Chimera jumped off of the rooftop, swinging from a lamppost to land on the sidewalk. He grabbed his radio, immediately, holstering his firearm as he yelled, “She’s running! Headed past Jackson Square!”

“Alpha 1 for TOC! Say again, Alpha 1 for TOC!” She ran through the city streets, turning as soon as she could. It was not the ideal situation.

“Alpha 1, go for TOC,” LaRoyce, aka Havoc, called out.

“I need ISR assistance on my pos asap! Running down St. Ann for my motorcycle at Du Monde! I’ve got cops on my ass, boys!”

“Hear you Lima Charlie, Commander. How much space do you have?”

“About six meters behind! Maximum!” Jumping on her motorcycle, Chimera sped off down the road as fast as she could. The engine screamed with effort as she pushed it harder and harder. Police followed close behind. “I’ve got two cars, three bikes and-“

“Alpha 1, ISR is picking up on your location a horse?”

“Fuckin’ Hell, of course, they have a horse on me.”

Another voice joined the chatter over comms, “Alpha 2 for Alpha 1.”

Chimera groaned before making an effort to reply. “Go for Alpha 1!”

“Uh, Master Chief, want us to assist?”

“No! Finish the op! I’ll be fine!”

“Be advised, your best COA may be the Mississippi.” LaRoyce stepped in.

Looking at her rearview mirrors, her heart dropped to the street under her, left behind and crushed by the horse chasing her. She knew TOC was right. It may very well have been her only course of action. She wasn’t scared of water. That wasn’t it. The problem was that the river was strong. Especially during that time of year. Her motorcycle was amphibious, but it didn’t have the horsepower that she needed to brave the waters. Then again, neither did the cops chasing her.

“TOC, I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it. Maybe Pontchartrain but not the river.”

“Exfil is five Mikes out. Can you hold on?”

A silence fell over comms.

“I got three. Max.”

She tore through the streets, driving up and down staircases, flying down sidewalks and every drive-thru on her path to, hopefully, freedom. No matter how many crowds and buildings she went through, the cops remained on her tail. 

Two into her five minutes awaiting exfil, she screamed into comms, “I just got an airship on my ass, guys, where’s exfil?!”

“Go down to the river, we’ve got one of the boats waiting for you. Zulu will find you.”

She sped up, soon seeing a boat on the river. The moment she had the opportunity, she, along with her beautiful black and red Ducati flew off of the pavement onto the commercial boat, both falling to the floor. The Ducati took off some of the equipment on the deck, sending it flying into the water down to the terrifying depths.

“What the?!” The driver screamed, falling backward at the sight of the vigilante.

“Oh, wrong boat…” She spoke, breathlessly.

“Master Chief!” A Zulu team member called out.

“I am so sorry. Check your PayPal tonight for the damages. Again I am so, so sorry.” She handed over her motorcycle to one of the team members while following close behind onto the other boat before speeding away to get to the base.

<>3 months later<>

“So we meet again. You’re not as hard to find as my colleagues think you are.”

Chimera stopped in her tracks. He thinks I hide from them. Ha.

“Detective Fontenot.” She gave a fake smile, “Guess we do. You track me down to accuse me of murder again? Try to arrest me again? Fun times, huh?” She sat down on the short rooftop she had previously stood on, staring at the man, a conscious effort to show how unafraid she was. Even though she was a little scared if she was honest.

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised under her mask. “I… don’t follow.”

“I-” He sucked in a frustrated breath, “I need your help.”

She jumped off the roof, landing right in front of the detective. “You what?!” She laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned back. “Please tell me what I think you’re telling me.”

“I won’t repeat myself. Look, I got my first serial case about a month ago and every single day I have families banging on the PD’s door asking for answers I can’t give them.”

“And you need me to get those answers.” She tightened her crossed arms, pacing slightly. “If I say no?”

Fontenot rolled his eyes. “I’ll say this once and only once. Please. You can go places and do things and talk to people the badge and blue keep me from.” 

“I’m not saying I won’t take the case, detective. My guys are already on it. What I’m saying is: ‘Why should I help you? Why would I share intel with you? Why would I risk being around you?’”

Fontenot stared at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Because you feel for people. You care for them. You wouldn’t do what you do if you didn’t care. And I know you care a lot about cops.”

“I don’t give a shit about cops, detective.”

He laughed, raising an eyebrow. “I know your rule you enforce with yourself and your friends.”

Stammering, she attempted to come up with a somewhat good lie. Of course, she was often a bad liar. “I don’t have rules, man. I just do what’s necessary.” Yeah, that’s not at all a good lie. 

“You’ve never hurt a cop before. You’ve had situations where it would have been so much easier if you had but you didn’t. I once saw one of your people accidentally hurt one of my officers and I saw how angry you got at them.”

“Because he was being reckless!” She hadn’t meant to snap like that. Now she’s proved him right and that smile on his face only made her blood boil more. “He broke Officer Dunham’s arm! It took months to heal. What if the department hadn’t decided to keep paying him for the few weeks he couldn’t work, huh?” She stopped herself, knowing she was only showing her hand more and more with every word.

“You care, Chimera. I-I see that now.”

“And that’s great, y’know? I’m happy you see that, but you head the Anti-Me task force. The FBI, CIA, Interpol, MI6, and whatever the Hell Canada has, and every other agency even slightly involved in law enforcement either wants me caught to work for them or spend the rest of my life in an isolated supermax cell speaking to no one and seeing nothing. Hell, I’m pretty sure Fish and Game have it in for me, too.”

“Can’t confirm or deny but… yeah. Yeah, they do.”

Chimera laughed before letting out a long sigh. “TOC, y’all getting all this?”

“Every word.” LaRoyce came through comms. “What’s the go?”

“Not sure. Can I get a summary of the case files?”

“Can do.” LaRoyce cut off the comms.

“Chimera.” Malcolm huffed. “Accessing police files is-“

“Illegal?” She stood in silence, staring at the man.

“Right… You gonna help me or not?”

<><><><><>

“Ducky. Ducky? Ducky!” Cam shook the operative’s shoulder, his head shaking with the rest of his body. Of course, he’d do this. Sleep in the War Room instead of his own. These days, he seemed to be getting his hours in anywhere but a bed. Getting no results, she yelled out, “Oh my- Утка!”

“Yo!” The man jumped, head flying off of the table. “What’s good?” He blinked his eyes rapidly, adjusting to the bright lights of the tech-filled room. All of the screens remained on their highest brightness at all times. Ducky looked up, watching all of the different screensavers each screen had rolling across them. Why were mountains so popular? Beaches could make perfectly good screensavers.

“Hey, Emrys needs to meet you, Alpha and Bravo at DeSoto’s.” Cam pulled him out of his pointless thoughts. “Wants one of the teams to scope for uni’s and plainclothes beforehand.”

Утка stretched his arms and legs. “She wants to do a briefing at DeSoto’s instead of on-base? The writer must be trying something out, cus that’s too much of a security risk.” He stood from the table, moving a few papers on his way up.

“What are you talking about?”

Before Cameron could get another word in, he made his way for the exit, “Yeah, can do. Tell her I’ll see her in fifteen.”

“Ducky…”

Nearly out of the War Room, he threw a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “Yup! Eight hours every night!”

<><><><><>

Ducky closed the curtains over the large window at the front of the restaurant.

“Alright, boys, let’s make this quick. DeSoto needs to open in a couple of hours.” Emrys sat at the head of the table in front of the window. “Faraday isn’t done. She may be in prison, but the rest of her guys aren’t. One of them is the new head of the organization on the outside. You’ll see in your target packages information on him by the name of Ari Yosef. Under his command is what Detective Fontenot is looking for. We’re not sure who, but, they’re a serial killer.”

“The target package on Yosef and his new organization is partial.” Ducky flipped through the pages, rolling his eyes. Ever since he moved from Bravo to Alpha, he seemed hellbent on proving himself, which apparently meant being unimpressed by anything and everything.

“Watch it, Утка.” Cam hissed.

“There’s not a lot of intel on them, Ducky. I had Delta run ISR all night and we’ve got nothing,” Emrys tugged at her leather jacket zipper. She listened as the teams went on for what seemed like years. Everyone had their own opinion. These opinions pushed them against the clock as the doors needed to open in five minutes! “Come on, boys, we’ve got 5 to figure this out.”

LaRoyce sat next to her, setting a cup of coffee on the table. “I say we put three teams in the field, get some kind of intel. Get Uniform out talking to their contacts.”

“Do we need undercovers and CI’s?” Emmerson crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Our drones and satellites could be enough, so have Tango work on it?”

“How about we use all three? Undercovers and Tech? Teams out on the streets?” Ducky closed the file, looking up at the teams.

“Do it. Put Uniform, Tango, and Golf on it.” Emrys stood from the table, picking up everything she’d had in front of her. The rest of the team did the same. Having given the target packages to Minno, who brought them to the kitchen, Утка opened the curtains. DeSoto opened his restaurant, allowing hungry customers to file in, having no idea what had just happened and what it would lead to.

<><><><><>

“They’ve not left, yet.” DeSoto turned to one of his chefs, “If you put any more salt in that gumbo, I’ll shove that container down your throat! Try a bay leaf! I mean, come on!” His face turned red. “I need these plainclothes out of my restaurant, Em. Your teams don’t want to come in with cops around, and I get it, but I need business. I can cover overhead and still make a profit, but your guys pay for my daughter’s college tuition.”

Emrys spun a knife through her fingers, crossing her legs as she looked over lake Pontchartrain. “I-I know, but…”

“I understand it’s difficult. I do, but-“

“It’s not just difficult, Neil. I know they’re just looking for Emrys, but it’s kinda hard to find me without finding Chimera.”

“Em.” 

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Don’t sacrifice Teresa’s future because you don’t want to see your family, Emrys.”

“You-“ She closed her eyes, slowing down her breathing. “So, I’m supposed to see my family, risk their lives and my own- because if I get caught I go to a supermax or better yet work under the restrictions of the fucking government but yeah, let’s worry about whether or not Teresa gets her degree so she can study British Literature that nobody reads anymore! Yeah, let’s do that!” Her hands shook as she squeezed the phone, making the material groan under the pressure. Her eyes glowed that golden yellow, a wave of fiery anger running through her veins.

“I’m sorry, Em. I really am. I forget, sometimes, about the stakes.”

“Mhmm,” Her eyes slowly dimmed back to normal, the rage working its way down. “I just- I can try to work something out. I’m sorry, it’s just hard.”

“No, no I get it. I’m sorry, Emrys. Next time you come by, your meal’s on me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, man. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I’ll figure something out. Give me an hour?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow, kid.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Emrys hung up, moving over to her contacts as she’d already had a plan.

“It’s Cameron.”

“Hey, I need some help.”

“I’m aware. That’s why I try to get you to talk to Deacon.”

“Not mentally you asshole. I need a diversion to get the police out of DeSoto’s. All the teams have stopped going and it’s messing with Neil’s profit and he’s worried about Teresa’s tuition.”

“Uh, yeah. I can figure something out. Ideally, I’d have Tango handle this but they’re busy on the Yosef-Faraday case. Yankee and Foxtrot are in AU working with our Aussie divisions, so they can’t do anything, either. Uh…” Emrys heard Cam typing away at the keyboards before hearing her acrylics tapping against a screen. “Okay, so… hear me out… how do you feel about Zulu creating a diversion?”

“Uh… Mm, yeah, I guess. Sounds good. If a couple of them do well, maybe we’ll move them up to Yankee. Have Romeo go with them. They’ve got experience with diversions.”

“Definitely! I’m assuming you’re talking about Northern Ireland. What a case, man. Alright. They’ll get it done within the hour.”

Emrys smiled, putting her knife away before standing, heading towards the motorcycle she left on the side of the road. Cars continued to honk as they passed, some screaming for her to, quote: “Get off of the bridge!”

“I’ll let the teams know. Thanks, Cam. I’m headed there, now, to suit up and switch motorcycles. It’s about to get dark.”

“See you then!”

<><><><><>

For the past two days, Emrys did nothing but spend time in the field with her teams at night while working on cases during the day, creating target packages, running recon, taking the smallest breaks to head to DeSoto’s once it was confirmed by Uniform that no cops were around. She even made time to help train the rookie teams. If she wasn’t training them, she was training with her teams. One thing she wasn’t doing was sleeping. Even when she ate, she didn’t have much before moving on to the next thing. Was she thirsty? Probably. She couldn’t remember the last time she drank anything. Or at least, anything good. So many specialized energy drinks from Deacon.

“Hey, Emrys?” Ducky stopped her in the halls while she was headed to the combat training stadium.

She slung her towel over her shoulder, crossing her arms with her water bottle cradled in the bend of her arm. “Hey, Ducky! You coming to train with the rest of the team?”

He shrugged, crossing his arms. “I dunno. Look, can we-“

“Rhys has been asking when he can rematch with you after last week,” She laughed. “It’s hilarious, though, cus he’s still pissed.” Her eyes widened, slightly. “Oh, dude, I’m so sorry. I interrupted you.”

“It’s okay. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Always.” She smiled, moving the water bottle to the other arm as it had started to really burn with how cold it was.

“It’s a kinda sensitive subject.”

Her demeanor instantly changed. Her shoulders dropped, her face seeming softer, almost. Her eyes radiated sympathy. The window to the soul, right? “No matter what it is, you can ask me anything anytime.”

“Awesome,” He smiled, loosening his crossed arms. “How long has it been since you’ve slept? I understand that’s coming from me, but I was just wondering.”

“You- I’m not doing this, right now, Утка. I thought you were coming to me about something important. Fuck off, man. I get that you care but I’m fine. Honestly, I’m fine.”

Утка let out a huff of air through his nose, a subtle laugh. “Yeah, your irritability tells me exactly that.” If he were a liar, he’d say he didn’t enjoy seeing her eyes glow after the statement. But he wasn’t a liar.

“You-“ She paused. “Whatever.” She started to walk away before Ducky spoke up, again, stepping towards her.

“Would you let anyone else operate like this? Really, would you? No sleep in however many days?”

She stopped, shoulders tighter and tighter with every word he said. “No, I wouldn’t. It’s dangerous as Hell to operate on such little sleep especially because we deal with firearms, I know.”

“You wanna lead by example, right? I mean, if your Commanding Master Chief is doing it, it must be okay! Isn’t it?”

“Don’t push me, Утка.”

He balled his fists at the sight of her doing the exact same thing. Her eyes were bright as ever. “I love you, Emrys. But if you try to operate before getting at least 8 hours, I’ll go to the higher-ups about it.”

Of course. He always had this boy scout way about him. Rules, rules, rules. Everything by the book unless otherwise necessary but his definition of necessary didn’t always line up with hers. That’s why he was Alpha 2. She needed her right-hand-man to be reliable like that. But damn. He was annoying as Hell sometimes. What was the most annoying thing was when he was right. Undeniably right. There really was no debate. In all reality, she’d never let a team member, no matter how important or experienced, operate on the amount of sleep, or lack thereof, she’d had.

Her shoulders dropped, eyes fading to the normal blue and brown. “Yeah.”

Ducky tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t allow it. I’ll cancel training with the teams and get some sleep. Take your own advice, though. Count some sheep, man.” She started back towards the bedrooms, fist-bumping him as she passed him. He was just looking out for her. She needed to remember that.

<><><>

Chimera ran through a warehouse, between pallets and pallets of product. The scuffs of the chaser’s shoes against the floor kept her highly aware of how close they were on her tail. She jumped through stairwells, over railings. She climbed walls, across the metal beams on the ceiling. She pushed past the burns made into her suit and into her skin from the overheated lights the enemies had left on for far too long. Of course, the one warehouse she was climbing through had cheap safety equipment!

No matter what she did, they found her. Shot at her, threw things at her. She was good at hiding. How come she couldn’t get away this time? She jumped off of the support beams, down to the tallest stack of product she could find, making her way down before making a break for the door. Hearing no scuffs on the floor and having no bullets fly past her, she smiled. It was about time life gave Chimera a win. About time it gave the woman behind Chimera a win. She worked as hard as she could to widen her strides, to make more ground with every step. Her smile was wider and wider with every step before…

The door wasn’t getting any closer. Her legs burned; she was out of breath. So why was it not getting closer? Why was her suit wet? Why was it spreading? 

Oh. She knew that feeling.

She’d been shot before.

She fell to the ground, just as far from the door as she had been the whole time. Under her body grew a pool of blood. She hadn’t heard the shot. She saw none of the people who had been chasing her. If they had the line of sight to take the shot, how could they not be surrounding her? Why were the pallets gone? The lights were getting brighter! What the Hell was going on?! 

She stared up at the ceiling which got lighter and lighter. White began to fill her vision before it was all she saw.

She died.

The next thing she knew, she was back on base. Everyone was running around, training, getting into cars and on motorcycles and leaving the base, running around with stacks of papers in their hands, target packages in nearly every hand. How many cases were they taking on? How did they get so many vehicles? Did they build another stadium?!

She looked around, seeing everything had changed. All without her. The world went on and nobody seemed to care.  
<><><>

She flinched awake, her heart rate pushing her heart through her chest. Seeing a dark figure on her couch, she jumped up, grabbing her gun off of her bedside table, training it on the figure, turning her laser on. “T.E.S.S., lights!” The bright lights in Emrys’s room turned on, bringing the person sleeping on her couch to wake.

“What the fuck?!”

Emrys stood, finally realizing she was pointing her gun at her best friend. “Cam! I’m so- I’m so sorry!” She lowered the firearm and her gaze, before looking back up. “Why are you sleeping on my couch?”

“I… don’t know.” Cam looked around her, seeing the way she’d left that side of the room the night before. “Probably got drunk.”

Emrys checked her gun. Unloaded. Thank God. “Good. After all the work you’ve been putting in, you deserve it."

“Why is your SIG out and not in your safe or the armory?”

“I was on the way to do weapons training with Alpha and Ducky stopped me. He made me realize I need to start getting more sleep. I didn’t wanna go all the way to the armory and I didn’t even think about putting it in the safe.”

“It’s fine. T.E.S.S. woulda saved me. Right, T.E.S.S.?”

The AI gave a robotic laugh, “Yes, Miss Cameron. I would save you with my ARS that Emrys programmed two years and thirty days ago.”

“Is the Anti Round System actually over two years old?”

“Yeah. Uh, look, I’m sorry I almost shot at you. I’m sorry I’ve been difficult, recently. Wanna go work on this case and forget about it?” Emrys grabbed her holster off the hanger it rested on, putting it on before holstering her firearm.

“Yeah, sounds good. Meet you in the War Room in five?”

Emrys nodded before watching Cam leave the room. She’d definitely still apologize for the pulling of the weapon. Unsafe. So unsafe despite the ARS.


End file.
